


Anything For You

by Sherlock1110, sherlockian4evr



Series: Sherlock and Mycroft Stuff [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Kidnapping, Kneeling, M/M, dub-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-20
Updated: 2016-02-20
Packaged: 2018-05-22 01:34:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6065743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherlock1110/pseuds/Sherlock1110, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlockian4evr/pseuds/sherlockian4evr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is taken hostage by Moriarty. Greg runs down to Mycroft's office. When he opens the door to the office, Mycroft is on his knees in front of a new guy. It turns out that the guy is one of Moriarty's minions. Of course Mycroft always could choose not to obey this little crim's orders, but he thinks this is the best way to get Sherlock back safely. So he does what he says. He licks his shoes/gives him blowjob/etc while Greg is there forced to watch this whole scene. Mycroft thinks it's all okay as long as Sherlock and John is safe and also it's important to distract Moriarty while Mycroft's team is actually searching for them.</p><p>When Mycroft gets the message that they found them, he instantly stops obeying their orders, and calmly kills them all. But Greg sees him through. He sees the pain, shame and everything else that normal human would feel in that situation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anything For You

John grabbed Sherlock's hand as they were surrounded. He could clearly see his boyfriend's mind racing all over the place trying to find a way out. He couldn't manage it, Moriarty was practically of the same intelligence. No way out would be entirely his intention. 

Neither man moved as two of Moriarty's minions stepped forward, guns raised. 

"Up," one growled indicating with his gun. With a glance at Sherlock, John raised his hands and was immediately stripped of his SIG. 

They were swiftly forced into chairs and cuffed. Sherlock's mouth was stuffed with a rag as he wouldn't stop talking. That was it, nothing else happened. John thought they had got off remarkably lightly, all things considered.

Approximately an hour later that changed when Moriarty himself made an appearance. He didn't say a word, just pulled out his phone and started filming. His goons took that as a cue and started working the detective and his blogger over quite thoroughly. Moriarty grinned. The footage would provide quite the leverage. Leverage for what he didn't know, but he couldn't pass up on the chance to ambush them when they were such easy targets… He knew it involved the Ice Man but he hadn't decided on what game he could play yet. 

Sherlock spat the rag out onto the floor, coughing again. 

"Hey!" Moriarty yelled. "Only hit pretty boy," he nodded at Sherlock. "Mr. Holmes is more likely to take us seriously."

When he had enough footage, Moriarty played it back with maniacal glee. "With this I can make the Ice Man do anything." He turned the phone so Sherlock and John could watch the replay. "Unless he really is as cold as he wants everyone to believe he is. Either way, fantastic! What do you think Shezza? What will brother dear do to keep you safe? Let's find out, shall we?"

"You're wasting your time," Sherlock croaked. "And mine. He doesn't care about me. Not anymore," his head dipped forward and Moriarty grinned as he caught the comment on camera. 

"Will this be the deciding factor for brother dear? Or will it make your situation worse?"

* * *

In Mycroft's office, Greg and Mycroft were stood over a large desk reviewing what information they had on Sherlock and John's disappearance. It was distressingly little and they had very few leads. The tension was almost so thick it could be cut with a knife.

When Mycroft's computer pinged he moved to turn it on. On an email was a video link. He glanced at his, boyfriend concern evident.  

As it opened up, the DI took one glance at the government official and raced off to inform the rest of the Yard. 

Before Greg had returned, Mycroft had received a taunting message. It asked simply what Mycroft was willing to do to get the two men back. The message promised he wouldn't have to betray either queen or country, just himself. Mycroft readily agreed.

At his consent the door swung inwards and his head snapped up. Three men, that weren't his own came in. He glanced at the screen, the image had changed to one of Sherlock and John. John seemed practically unharmed, but was fighting life and limb to get to the detective. Sherlock hadn't fared so well. Mycroft gritted his teeth, when Sherlock opened his mouth and it came out no more than a croak. His words were Mycroft's own fault, he knew it. "You're wasting your time. And mine. He doesn't care about me. Not anymore."

"And that's the question, innit boys?" It was the man in the middle who had spoken. "Just how much does this poncy arse care about his brother?"

"I care. I already said I do. I'll do anything you ask," Mycroft objected.

"Then get over here and show it."

Mycroft stepped across the room cautiously, but no less determined. 

Two men, the ones on the sides, stepped forward and grabbed Mycroft's arms, pulling them roughly around behind him. They forced him down to his knees. He didn't comment and he didn't struggle. The third man turned the screen so that Moriarty could watch. 

The screen crackled slightly and Mycroft's head looked over at the sound of his brother's voice. "Myc, no!"

Sherlock got a blow across his face for his outburst.

"Shut up!" Mycroft shouted. "You're not helping matters."

One of the men pushed the government official forward, doubling him nearly in half. "We'll start easy. Lick his shoes and make them clean. 

Mycroft would have stumbled, but the grip on his arms held him incredibly tight. He sniffed indignantly at them and heard Sherlock yell out in pain again. John was also kicking off. 

He closed his eyes and firmly did not think about the filth and germs that the leather harboured. He stuck out his tongue and began bathing the shoe leather, determined to do a satisfactory job of the task for Sherlock's sake. When he was done, the man lifted his foot, indicating the same should be done to the sole of his shoe. He carried on without hesitation and was gladder than he could ever comment when there was no further sound of Sherlock's distress. He just only wished his little brother wasn't watching this. 

When the men pulled him roughly upright on his knees, making him wince at the new strain in his shoulders, he sighed in relief. 

"Oh, no, no, Mr. Holmes, there's three of us, you're not done yet."

Moriarty's cackling behind them just served to remind him of Sherlock's predicament, not like he could forget.

He steeled himself and moved to the second pair of shoes, then the third, supressing the continued urge to gag. It was his the fault of his fertile imagination supplying him with an analysis of what was on the men's shoes and the growing suspicion of what humiliations might be coming next.

He was yanked upright again and pulled then next to the desk. Cuffs were fitted around his wrists so his hands were pulled behind the back of the nearest chair. 

"There we go, Mr. Holmes, you're not going anywhere."

Mycroft's head dropped forward and he tried to clear the disgusting taste from his tongue. He could have easily picked the cuffs using the device he kept secreted upon his person for just that purpose, but now wasn't the time. Instead, he simply watched as the three men raided his private bar. At least that bought him some time while Greg and his men located Sherlock and John. 

In Moriarty's hideout, the screen had gone blank. 

"My brother," Sherlock choked. "What have you idiots done to him?"

Moriarty cackled. "Does it really matter, Shezza? I can make your brother do anything I want. In fact, I think I will. What would be the most degrading thing I could make your brother do? Oh dear, dear me. That friend of his should be returning to Mycroft's office soon. Let's have your brother put on a show for him." Moriarty typed out a text.

The leader of the trio read the text that had just arrived. He downed his scotch like it was water, not even stopping to savour its aroma or taste. "It's tit for tat, Mr. Holmes." He sat the now empty glass aside and adjusted himself in his trousers. "If you want a bit of information about your brother, you'll need to provide me a service." He crossed the room to stand in front of Mycroft. "Now what do you think would interest a bloke like me?" 

"Pissing off out of my office," Mycroft growled. "You've got me," he indicated the screen again, which had turned back on, showing Sherlock and John, who was still fighting the three men needed to hold him back. "Let him - them go."

The man grinned wickedly. "I don't think so."

Greg burst in, already talking. "It’s going to take..." He broke off when a gun was shoved in his face. "Take it easy mate." He held his hands up where they could clearly be seen. One of the other men cuffed him and shoved him into a chair. The gun on the DI never wavered. 

"Myc…"

"You're an idiot, Gregory." Mycroft was smacked in the face for opening his mouth. 

"We were just discussing what to make Mr. Holmes do, Inspector. Any ideas?"

When the DI didn't offer an answer, the man slapped Mycroft hard enough to slice the inside of his cheek against his teeth.

"Jesus! Myc, I'm sorry. Please, don't hurt him anymore," he begged of the ostensible leader. "That was my fault. Hurt me."

The man turned his attention to Greg, a glint of anger in his eyes. The situation was devolving rapidly.   
  
Mycroft spoke up. "I know what it is you really want. 

His eyes darted to Greg but the five of them were interrupted by the screen. Moriarty was here waving and clearing his throat pointedly. 

"Sir?"

"I'm bored. And Shezza is falling asleep."

In response the detective groaned. 

Mycroft cried out, worried, "Sherlock! Say something! Is it concussion?"

"I'm afraid neither he nor the good doctor can hear you," Moriarty sang. "But it just might be a mild concussion." His eyes shifted away to look at something off the screen. "Wake up princess."

Mycroft could hear John pleading in the background to be allowed to help the detective.   
  
Moriarty looked back at the screen, his expression hard. "Let's move things along."

"Things?" Greg asked.  

"I know what they want," Mycroft croaked. "But leave my brother alone."

When the leader of the trio unzipped his trousers, Greg almost leapt from the chair he was sat in. It was the gun shoved in his face that stopped him. He closed his eyes and willed himself to be wrong about what was about to happen, but he knew he wasn't.   
  
At the sound of Mycroft's knees hitting the floor, Greg's eyes flew open. He wouldn't leave the other man to face this alone, although perhaps that might be kinder. The DI didn't know. The decision was made for him when the gun wielding brute told him to watch.

Moriarty was cackling before Mycroft had even opened his mouth. "Get on with it Mr. Holmes. From the sound of your little brother's pet he's unconscious now."

Mycroft's hands were balled into fists behind his back. The moment his brother was safe, things would change, but for now he would play along. He kept his mouth open and tried to ignore the musky smell that was not the smell of his lover. He likewise ignored the foreign taste and feel on his tongue. Even more urgently, he ignored the fact that Gregory was being forced to watch.

When the cock in his mouth began to throb Mycroft braced himself. As he came the older brother tried desperately to ignore the taste of it. He just pictured it as the DI and was imagining his baby brother safe. 

The first thing he said when the man pulled out was. "I'm sorry, Gregory," he couldn't look at the younger man. He wouldn't either. 

The DI wanted to cry. "You have nothing to be sorry for!"

"Oh, boys, isn't that touching?" Moriarty clapped on the screen. "I knew you were friends, but I didn't know just how close you were." He gave an evil grin. "If you don't want my boys trying out your lover, you had best show some enthusiasm. If you do I might even let the little doctor tend to Shezza."

Mycroft made a split second decision and crawled to the man with the gun. It wouldn't be long until Sherlock and John were rescued. The moment they were, he'd want that weapon. Mycroft looked up at the man, trying to hide his revulsion.

It didn't do any good, Greg could see it.

"Myc-" 

"Shh…" he whispered. 

Sherlock by now was completely unconscious and heard John yell. "Mycroft!"

Mycroft's frustration and anger were so great, that his neatly trimmed fingernails had drawn blood in his palms. Still, he knew that the time was fast approaching for him to take action. Between what his own people knew and what Greg had fed the yard, the captive men should be free within minutes.

Mycroft began to put on a show. He sucked down the man with the gun, being sure not to smile when he set it on the nearby table. Letting a tear trickle down his cheek, he drew all eyes to his face and what was going on there. His work to pick the lock on the cuffs went completely unnoticed, even by Greg. 

There was a loud bang on the screen and the door was kicked in. 

The three men holding John were shot dead on the spot. 

Mycroft sprung to his feet. Surprising everyone when his hands were free and smashed the guy in the face; deliberately aiming for the one that had held Greg at gunpoint. 

He snatched the gun from the table and shot all three in quick succession. Next he charged to Greg, releasing the cuffs before racing from the building. The DI wasn't far behind. 

Mycroft told the driver which A&E to take them to. He wanted to be there when Sherlock and John arrived.

Greg could see that his boyfriend was trying to hide his upset, but the DI could see through it. He reached out and took Mycroft's hand and held it. 

The government official looked up and across at him for a moment, eventually he let himself collapse to the side to rest his head on Greg's shoulder. 

"Could have lost him, Greg."

It wasn't the quietness of Mycroft's voice that helped convey his sincerity, it was 'Greg' rather than 'Gregory'. 

"But we didn't."

Mycroft looked up at him. The 'we' comment meant far more than he could put into words. "But we could have. I didn't protect him, nor John."

Greg went to kiss him, but Mycroft pulled away. The DI gently cupped his boyfriend's face and turned it back towards him. "You, Mycroft Holmes, did everything in your power to protect them. You would have done even more, and I know it. Please, you're not a failure and you're not dirty. Let me kiss you."

Mycroft let out a sigh. The smile he gave was sad, but far from broken. "STDs, Greg. You can kiss me, but not on the mouth. Not until we know it's safe." 

Greg ignored him. He grabbed the front of his suit and pulled him onto his lap, kissing him as thoroughly as he could. 

"Now if you have and STD's so do I."

Mycroft's glare was cut short by their arrival at A&E. Their timing was impeccable. Sherlock was being unloaded from an ambulance, his ever present doctor at his side. His little brother was awake, but disoriented, muttering both John's and Mycroft's names under his breath.

Mycroft ran to him, but Sherlock couldn't look up. He wouldn't make eye contact with either man.

John tried his best to soothe the detective, but wasn't getting anywhere either. He was so distracted by his own boyfriend, he didn't notice Greg's. Mycroft stepped forward and grabbed John in a bone crushing hug. 

"Mycroft?" John asked. "Are you alright?"

The government official let John go and turned his attention to his brother. "Thank you for taking care of him. I heard you, he was all that mattered to you, John. Thank you. 

Greg came up and slid his hand around Mycroft's waist. 

"Of course he's all that matters. What do you take me for? A complete mug?"

"No, no. You matter too, but Sherlock..."

The medical team began rolling him away.

"Will he be okay, John? The concussion..."

John ran his hand through his hair. "They'll need to run tests to be sure, he did lose consciousness after all, but I'm sure he'll be okay. What about you, Mycroft?"

The government official shrugged. "I'm fine."

Greg pursed his lips and gave his boyfriend a look. They would be having a more meaningful discussion when the three of them were in private.

"And the guys that had you caught?"

"They don't matter."

"So they're dead then."

Mycroft tilted his head slightly. "Quite right too, don't you think?"

John grinned the grin of the soldier. "Oh, I won't shed a single tear for any of them.  Now would you mind too terribly working some of that Mycroftian magic and getting me back there where Sherlock is? You know what he's going to be like when he really comes around."

Mycroft somehow smiled. "It would actually be an honour, John."

Greg refused to let go of his hand so he took the younger man with him. 

In less than 15 minutes John was by Sherlock's side. The attending physician and medical staff were actually glad to see him as their patient became far more compliant.

In between their poking and prodding, Sherlock reached for John's hand. "Take care of my brother."

"He wants me to take care of you."

"I don't care!" Sherlock shouted, then winced in pain. "Don't you see? Moriarty wanted him humiliated. He had them hurt him, somehow. I know it."

"Mycroft said he's fine."

"I want to see him." Sherlock started to get up from the table, much to everyone's dismay. 

John moved forward and grabbed his wrists. 

"John-"

"Shut up, babe." He managed to struggle onto the table and kneel either side of him. He pinned his wrists above his head. He looked over his shoulder, "go and get Mr. Holmes."

When Mycroft walked in, Sherlock immediately knew. "Get everyone out of here, John. I have to talk to my brother. That means you too."

"And I'm saying piss off."

Sherlock frowned. 

"This lot can leave by all means, but your brother is in no state to look for any medical difficulties."

Mycroft rested a hand on his brother's shoulder. "If a doctor is to be involved, I would much prefer it to be  _your_  doctor."  He smiled at John who now looked worried. 

"It was merely a couple of rather distasteful blow jobs. Any 'trauma' I might have felt I worked out when I eliminated them; however testing for STDs will be required. That's where you come in, John."

"And Greg?"

"Thankfully, untouched." He turned and opened the door. As soon as he had Greg cannoned into him, wrapping his arms around him. 

"You bloody idiot! You had me worried."

Suddenly, he was sandwiched from behind. "You are an idiot," Sherlock agreed quietly into Mycroft's ear. "You shouldn't have done it. Not for me."

Mycroft turned his head. "And what about John?"

Sherlock had no response to that.

"We're all safe, 'Lock." Mycroft turned around fully to see John supporting his brother. "That's all that matters. The people we love are safe."


End file.
